


Complaint Box

by ixiepixie



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Office, Drabble, Fluff, M/M, USUK - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-07
Updated: 2017-07-07
Packaged: 2018-11-29 02:23:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11431185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ixiepixie/pseuds/ixiepixie
Summary: Arthur finds the 'complaints' box at his office.





	Complaint Box

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by chatting with a friend of mine about how annoying it is when cars drive by with stereos blasting at 3 am.

Another car roared down the sleepy residential street, going much faster than the speed limit. The cursed thing was blasting music so loud that Arthur was amazed the speakers hadn't exploded, let alone the inconsiderate tosspot of a driver’s eardrums. “‘Move to America!’ they said, ‘It is a wonderful opportunity!’ they said. Those sodding sons of..”

More blasting music followed the last, the bass turned so high that it could be felt in one’s chest. It was likely racing the other vehicle, or some other illegal nonsense. Ugh. Muttered curses continued to stream from the Brit’s mouth as he turned over in bed and tried to get at least a little sleep before his first official day in the office. Today had been all paperwork and moving into his desk, no real work.

Thankfully, the rest of the night was silent, or at the very least he didn't wake up from the noise. Sure London could be loud sometimes, but at 3 in the morning?? Well, yes, but he was blaming the Americans anyway! The office was fairly quiet, a nice change from the dreadful traffic on the way here. That was when Arthur noticed an odd little box that was labeled ‘Complaints’. One next to it said ‘Suggestions’, but it held no interest for him. How odd to have a box for one's daily complaints. What was done with the papers inside? Were they just thrown away? Like throwing away your problems? Oh he was good at that.

Grabbing the pen, Arthur quickly set to writing his very first complaint. It read: The night-time noise of cars racing at god knows what speed with music blasting so loudly my ears bleed is quite unpleasant.

He slid the paper into the box and sighed, feeling a little better after having vented the complaint out on paper. This way, he wouldn't have to complain to any potential new friends here at his workplace. These Americans had some good ideas after all.

**One month later.**

Alfred, the manager of this particular branch of some paper pushing company, had his secretary bring the complaint and suggestion boxes. He always made time to read both at least once a month. Thankfully, the complaint box was usually empty, though the suggestion box occasionally got something along the lines of ‘new coffee machine’ or ‘2 ply toilet paper’.

That last one was a good idea, though a little costly for the office. He knew it would make his workers happier, though, so he went through with it. After the boxes were on his desk, he picked one up at random and checked. The suggestion bin was empty. Well, he hoped that meant there were no issues people had suggestions for solving.

Opening the complaint box, Alfred’s jaw dropped. The bin was almost half full! That never happened!

A small surge or worry filled his chest as he unwrapped the first of the complaints. Were all of his employees unhappy? Was something major broken? Was he going to be murdered in his sleep by vengeful spirits??

_‘My cat did his business on my potted fern.’_

What?

Alfred’s blue eyes scanned the sentence over and over again, but he failed to comprehend what was written. He decided to grab another.

_‘I ran out of milk for my tea this morning and was almost late because some tosser on a motorcycle cut me off.’_

Another.

_‘The traffic in this city is god awful, but nothing compared to the busy streets of London on a workday morning.’_

With each one he read, his confusion grew, as did his smile. Eventually, Alfred was chuckling, then full on laughing, his face on his desk and one hand pounding it as he chortled and giggled incessantly. He was nearly in tears by the time his secretary came to check and see if he was having a mental breakdown. Once he sent her back to her desk and calmed down, Al gathered up all the complaints, realizing that each one was from a single person. One sourpuss in his office, with the funniest complaints he'd ever seen.

He tucked them away, then walked himself to return the boxes to their rightful spots. Hopefully he could figure out who this complainer was and let them know privately that the box was meant for workplace complaints only. It wasn't that he minded too much, but it would be embarrassing to send a memo and single the poor person out. As he reached the spot for the boxes, his gaze wandered to the cubicles. There were many new faces, since the company had recently gone global. From the sound of the complaints, the person sending them was definitely British.

Al’s eyes wandered to a mop of blonde that had stood from one of the seats, a permanent frown seemingly stuck on his face. ‘Oh no, he's cute’, was all that went through his head. Alfred saw the man making his way over but once they made eye contact, the other turned around at sat at his desk once more. Was he blushing? Probably just his imagination, Alfred would never be that lucky.

Focusing back on the task at hand, Alfred decided that every day, he would try to keep an eye on the complaint box. This way he could see who used it most and would know who his mystery complainer was!

Of course, that meant he would kinda be ignoring his own work, but he could stay later to take care of it. For now, he was on a misson.

**One week later.**

Arthur was unsure what to think when he had been called into the manager’s office that morning. Surely he hadn't done anything wrong. He was always on time, his work was done early, and he had a spotless record before coming here. Perhaps he would be getting a promotion? Though, he hadn't been after one or signed up for any opportunities yet, so no, that wasn't it. What could this man want from him?

He held his breath, sitting across from the, admittedly handsome, American man. “Sir, if I may, why was I called in here?”

Mr. Jones simply smiled at him. He then pulled a bunch of papers out of his desk drawer and Arthur immediately panicked. Those were his complaint notes. Had he used the box wrong? Oh bollocks, he had, hadn't he? How was he supposed to know?? There was no rule sheet or memo!

Arthur met the eyes of his boss and swallowed, about to apologize, but the other spoke first.

“These are the cutest complaints I've ever read. And the funniest.”

Arthur gaped. Then he felt his face heat up. Had he just been called cute?? “I beg your pardon?”

Mr. Jones grinned, sliding a slip of paper to Arthur with a phone number and a smiley face on it. “At first, I was gonna tell whoever was writing these that the box is actually for workplace complaints and send them out, but...” he paused and took a breath “-when I saw it was you, I decided this was a great time to ask you out! Say... to the starbucks across the street on your lunch break?”

At a loss for words, the shorter blond could only nod in response. He pocketed the number, then made his way back to his desk, simply watching the clock for the next half hour, eager and nervous all at once for this date with Mr. Jones.

**One year later.**

Alfred smiled absently at the ring on his finger. The complaint box had been used less often by Arthur after their first date, but every now and again he would leave one just for Alfred's eyes. Be it about picking up his laundry, doing the dishes, or turning down the tv when he played video games at 1 am, Alfred read and saved all of them in his desk.

It came as no surprise then, that one such complaint note tumbled out of the box today. Al chuckled, opening it and reading before he felt his heart flutter in his chest.

_‘I have the most noisy American husband who doesn't know how to properly cut the stems of flowers when they are put into a vase. Happy Anniversary, Alfred.’_


End file.
